


In Shigeru's defence - re: Prince Kentarou

by tothemovies (jayjem_jam)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Royalty AU, bickering princes as healing balms on my soul, captive prince au, imagine you plan for everything and this prince comes in and your plans are all ruined, matsuhana ARE married and just vibing, not meet cute but meet violent, oblivious yahaba, quietly obvious kyoutani, that is the precise image I was going for, there will be talks of slavery, yahaba being surprised that he was being courted like no no do it properly I do not see it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26207368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayjem_jam/pseuds/tothemovies
Summary: Shigeru's instructions upon leaving for Akielos had been: Smile, be charming and don't start a war. He manages all three. Maybe manages to also rope in a courtship, though in his defence, he didn't plan for Prince Kentarou.“I don’t hate you, but that’s neither here nor there,” he hisses back, words punchy. “Were you courting me?”The Prince only stares. Shigeru grows more fidgety.“It was a yes or no answer, Exalted. One word. Come on.”“What if I was?”“Okay that is not one word. Um, I’d have to tell you no.”“What if I wasn’t?”“What is this, a court martial? Then I’d be offended.”
Relationships: Kyoutani Kentarou/Yahaba Shigeru
Comments: 10
Kudos: 77
Collections: Seijoh Week 2020





	In Shigeru's defence - re: Prince Kentarou

**Author's Note:**

> SEIJOH WEEK 2020 YEAAAHHH!!! for day 1: ROYALTY AU
> 
> first of all I wrote this on sunday - and it is monday afternoon and I missed not only one important law class but handed in my assignment very late to my other lit class but inspiration strikes you at inopportune time so whoops have this behemoth of a fic
> 
> I think Adult Prince Kyoutani would be calm but quietly vicious? that's just how I see him - he's still full of rage but he's throwing subtler punches and I love that for him. Yahaba for me had always been super super disastrous as a gay and I want dumbass prince Yahaba, and sometimes you have to write what you want even if it is like 6 years later from when you first met kyouhaba 
> 
> yes this is based off Captive Prince and yes I am aware of the portrayals of slavery in the canon texts and sexual violence to which I denounced in this work. there are mentions of slavery within the story framed to be traumatic experiences to which the characters work to abolish. with that said, if you are not preferable to these topics, you are welcome to step away. I am not inviting you to read about an uncomfortable topic to which I had heralded warnings of, to receive lambasting of an undeserved nature. Don't want to hear about Captive Prince universes? Walk away. Look away. 
> 
> okay so that was the warning but if you are still here, enjoy 10k+ of kyouhaba doing dumb shit as princes, you deserve this treat

In Shigeru’s defence, the intricacies of the Akielon court fashion were the sole lessons in which he missed. Also in his defence, brother cannot add ‘royal steed stampede related deaths’ onto his ongoing duties, because Tooru would have sent the poor messenger who had to make that trip to the Crown Prince fearing more than his life. So Shigeru went and herded the spooked horses back into the royal stables and waved away the stable boys’ thanks, because this was done for the greater good. He missed the fashion seminar - so what! Akielons drape themselves in sheets, end of story, he graciously pawned off all treaties concerning textiles and fashion onto brother. It has nothing to do with him.

Which precisely led him to the present predicament.

Shigeru was being shown around the wrestling arena, the curious sport of Akielon oiled wrestling a matter of curiosity for him. As someone who illegally joined a few ring matches himself in his youth, fully clothed, mind the gods, because Vere holds nakedness to a different standard than to Akielos, he wanted to know the mechanics of how the traditional sport was conducted. His guide had to depart halfway because of an urgent spousal request, the man grinning too widely to be perceived as an inconvenience, leaving Shigeru alone in the arena.

Supposedly.

There was already someone, who had already shed his chiton to hang at his hips and waist, chest wide and rippling with fluid wild grace. He’s a fighter. Shigeru took one look at him and thought, quite reasonably, that there was a single known Akielon Prince in the castle and he was preoccupied with Tooru, so this must be a soldier. A well-made soldier. Someone who could put up quite a decent fight. He didn’t care if he lost - it would bode badly if he was found out to be wrestling Akielon men on his first trip abroad and winning with said writhing men under him. Princes are not meant to start fights with foreign nationals either in their own court or out of it. There is propriety to pay mind to. He must keep up appearances, even if that appearance was dwindled to almost nothing when he stepped foot onto Akielos.

He propositioned a tussle, an invitation to accept or deny. The man stared at him, short-cropped hair with Vaskan lines running parallel on either side of his head and tipped up his chin. He must have thought Shigeru quite dainty and willowy - a misconception he did not care to correct. Shigeru shrugged. It was better to hold this advantage close to heart.

“Don’t cry when I pin you down, Veretian,” the man had promised. Shigeru eagerly started unlacing, discarding his boots, before stepping into a stance.

In Shigeru’s defence, he knew objectively that royal princes needed to gain martial skills to lead armies, as Tooru and Hajime had, in Marlas. However, that didn’t mean that they have to be absurdly amazing (see: Shigeru) to be princes. So he didn’t think this was a prince, at all. 

All Akielons literally dressed in the same manner. Nobles, kings, the servants, the bakers - everyone wore the standard sheet. Even Hajime had no ornaments decorating his cape, the only mark of royalty around here.

So there was no identification of royalty, no deliverance of news that another Prince arrived in the palace of Ios, no aristocratic mannerism to his speech or behaviours, so Shigeru threw himself at the supposed commoner.

They traded mild insults that, as people from both sides of a war would, engage in. Then things escalated. The Akielon cursed out the Veretian army. Shigeru called out the Akielons. Feelings were breached, defences were tapped into, then the Akielon said that peace was never an option.

Shigeru was entertaining the idea of putting this one under him. Then he put that thought into action.

 _“You_ try exerting the same amount of violence expended to maintain peace as one would throw unto war and see which one is harder,” he snarled, grappling, pushing, shoving - he was playing to win. “And I’m delighted to inform you that having been through war, peace is _not_ fucking easy, so _yield.”_

The Akielon stilled and Shigeru, never one to waste an opportunity, lunged, throwing all his weight onto a caught unaware opponent. 

Which brings them to the current time.

The opponent under his arm snaps wolfish fangs, close enough to bite at him. These are eyes lined in the kohl strokes reminiscent of pets and Shigeru’s addled brain recognises enough Akielon to register _Exalted!_ as this one surges forward, up, to the side, throwing him off of his body. His very firm, thickly corded with muscle body, thighs strong enough to break swords in two, warm with sweat and dirt-thicked oil. 

_“Exalted!”_ The guard stumbles into a salute, then a bow. _“Are you harmed?”_

“No” would have been an appropriate response - but this Exalted royal, whoever he is, has a tongue sharp enough to draw blood. Like a Veretian. Shigeru was almost impressed. 

“It is only a Veretian.” Exalted speaks, then repeats the same sentiment in bitten Veretian, aristocratic enough to glean at his formal education, but disdainful enough to know that _ah, he’s not using that tongue to speak with anyone of import._ “Kindaichi, we are to leave.”

“Of course, Exalted,” Kindaichi the harried guard bows. He bows again, facing Shigeru. _“Your Highness,”_ he demurs carefully, before running to his Exalted. 

Shigeru is sprawled on the dirt of the arena. When Shinji finds him in a quarter of an hour, he hasn’t moved. 

  
  
  


Shigeru turned religious for the whole of the afternoon before state dinner, praying to Veretian gods, Vaskian gods and said fuck it, might as well, clasped hands in obeisance to Akielon gods. Tooru sent Shinji to him with a plate of ripe, cut fruit slices because Shigeru is wont to wither in solitude at the slightest inconveniences at his own making, but otherwise had not sought him out. This visit is less trading and more a returning courtship meeting, with the Crown Prince of Akielos spending more time prying brother away from his supposedly god-granted arms than meeting with the Council. Not that the Council minds. At least they’re more lenient than back home, where confusing orders of ‘you can’t marry the enemy’ and ‘what about heirs’ descended late into the night.

Shigeru was praying that he wouldn’t run into more Akielon royalty and that in his lessons, he somehow missed the honorifics part. Maybe courtiers are called Exalted. Akielos has an extensive family, perhaps that was the Crown Prince’s fourth cousin whose words won’t slight his Exalted to spurn Tooru away. Father passed very strict orders that they, the brothers, look out for each other in fear of a war since literally nobody in two lands could believe the parley called, the engagement struck and the courtship. _Just don’t do or say anything stupid, please,_ the King of Vere begged. 

Tooru had taken that advice to heart. Shigeru, the more mild-mannered and better-behaved, promised to solemnly keep his brother on strict watch. 

He strode into the banquet hall with Tooru, laced more liberally and scandalously than what would be accepted of royalty. Akira’s eyes had slid from the sight of his Prince’s exposed throat to where his Exalted Hajime lounged, not even subtle in his staring. Shigeru gave up telling him no about four years ago. The _kyroi_ watch their little Veretian procession filing into the hall with a mixture of wariness and bemusement. The _kyros_ of Delfeur, a trusted aide of the Prince, steps forward, extending a strong wrist forward, a strong wrist across his chest. He has a head of curls and drawn eyes, a challenge in his bow. Tooru clasps the hand, a tad too tight, before stepping back.

“You are strong,” the _kyros_ notes, lightly surprised in his taunting Veretian. “I see Hajime had not embellished this fact.”

“A fact I need not prove to you, but alas, one must maintain courtesy,” Tooru’s mocking Akielon manages to be high and lilting, even as it is barbed with poison. “Even if that courtesy is entirely undeserving.”

The _kyros_ looks too pleased to be insulted, because Akielons are weird and think weird thoughts, before an aggrieved voice speaks from his left shoulder.

“I told you to stay put,” the Crown Prince of Akielos sighs, as the _kyros_ stands aside, shrugging unrepentantly. Shigeru has half a mind to note that he directed this sentiment towards Tooru also. “Really, this is no way to treat esteemed royal guests.”

“Exalted,” Tooru breathes out as the rest of their party bow, because they are not Crown Princes and cannot afford to be chided for grave counts of impoliteness to higher ranking royalty. “Here to attend to your beloved?”

“Regrettably,” claims the Prince, even as he un-regrettably reaches out to squeeze Tooru’s elbow, swallowing up everything in a palm, drawing him closer. “I apologise for Issei.”

“No need,” Tooru’s grin is wicked. “Perhaps he’ll take to my brother and guards better.” He tips his head to the man, tongue slipping into lilting Akielon. “Are you amenable to be their guide, _kyros?”_

The bow he offers to Shigeru is infinitely more respectful than the one he barely showed Tooru. In the grand schemes of transnational hierarchy schemes, ones that Shigeru could not give a single fuck about, _kyroi_ come after Crown Princes and before any manner of princes that are otherwise to the throne. On this, he came very close to grave counts of disrespect to a foreign throne, but since Vere is here on the goodwill of Akielos, most of the blatantly shown insults had been passed aside in favour of remaining at the royal court. Not being straight up assassinated by courtiers is the highest mark of hospitality that they expected before boarding the boat anyways, so this by far had exceeded all expectations. The Crown Prince, gallant and mannered, bows to the Veretian retinue before Tooru turns them away, their arms linked in a lover’s lock. 

“Must be a hell of a guy to have Hajime run to him like that,” Issei the _kyros_ notes as Akira samples a passing collection of tarts. 

“He is very competent,” Shinji diplomatically returns in accented Akielon. Issei laughs, arms crossed.

“No need to trouble yourself. I have been educated in Veretian - it would trouble me less to converse in your language than you would to attempt mine.”

A little dig, though it is one that Shigeru noticed. He holds his chin level, the facade of a haughty Veretian royal slipping in place. He sighs, before directing his gaze, and raised Akielon, onto the _kyros._

“It is quite an animalistic brogue, this Akielon of yours - you must excuse my party’s inability to scrounge our poor throats in imitating these guttural structures, our sensibilities are simply too well-made for such,” a finger to his jaw, “ah, what was the word - right, cacophony.”

Issei the Delfeur _kyros_ does not take offense that Shigeru had trampled all over the transnational hierarchy schemes where _kyroi_ rank higher than second-born princes. Instead, he finds it delightful that neither Princes of Vere had spines made out of molluscs.

“Some of us must arm ourselves beyond the sword, _kyros,”_ Shigeru concedes - and this is not a barb thrown at the Akielon. Marlas had thrown a bone in the voracious hyena pit that is the Veretian court and stirred it all up in a bubbling concoction of disaster - he must be careful. He must be prepared. 

“Indeed,” Issei hums. “Though must I say, for a nation of dangerous words, your brother’s sword form is exquisite.”

Akira coughs once. “His sword is also exquisite.”

Shigeru coughs louder. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

And then he didn’t hear anything for the rest of the dinner, because the hopeful Akielon fifth cousin strolls in with his nervous Kindaichi guard, eyes wide as he makes unfortunate contact with Shigeru’s. _Please, please, now would be a good time to be merciful, gods,_ Shigeru begs, hopes.

Then fails.

Hajime the Crown Prince promptly prises off Tooru when the no-longer-hopeful Akielon not-cousin strolls to them, dropping into a knee as expected of one greeting two Crown Princes, before he’s drawn up by Hajime. The crowd turns to their party of three, murmurs catching speed and washing over to Shigeru. _He’s back. The Prince._

“Which _Prince,”_ Shigeru mutters in harried Veretian. He forgets that half the court also understands Veretian. The _kyros_ raises a brow.

“They are all Princes, Your Highness.”

Shigeru snaps his head up, eyes drawn in dawning horror.

“What.”

Kindaichi is trying to step away from where apparently the Prince Trio of the night is gathered, but Hajime gives a firm Akielon order, and Kindaichi shuffles over. Tooru watches, delighted to be a part of the drama. He becomes even more delighted as all eyes turn to Shigeru, as he is distinctly too aware of his own mortality dawning onto him.

“Akira,” he hisses out from the corner of his gritted mouth. “How easy is it for you to kill me right now?”

“That would be treason, Your Highness,” Akira yawns. 

“Even if it is your Prince’s direct order?”

“The King said only he has rights to dispose of you, so I’m outranked, Your Highness.”

Shinji drops into a bow, too sudden to warn Shigeru. The Princes of the Night descend onto him, one brother grinning wide enough to appear maniacal, with two foreign Princes baffled faces (well, just Hajime’s, but Hajime is currently two people in one) facing him. Unsure of how else to proceed.

“Prince Tooru. Exalted, Prince Hajime,” the _kyros_ bows. “Prince Kentarou.”

 _Haha fuck,_ goes the little monkey in Shigeru’s head. Prince Kentarou, who is _not_ a cousin, who _isn’t even supposed to be back from Patras,_ is dressed as he was in the afternoon, though he dons a royal pin on his shoulder, the royal gold sash across his waist. 

Prince Kentarou lifts a dark brow at Shigeru, eyes level to his. He’s waiting.

“Prince Kentarou,” Shigeru dips into a half bow. Please be gentle with me, he tries to speak with his eyes. Unfortunately only Tooru caught the look.

“Your Highness,” Prince Kentarou intones, in crisp Akielon. Guttural still, but commanding. Assured of himself in the court of his home. “I do hope you are enjoying the festivities. Do try to mediate your excitement to an acceptable level. I cannot guarantee what the full court of Akielos will think if you are to demonstrate your skills of tackling in public view.”

Father and Brother had taught him to be prepared. He himself had disciplined himself to be polite. Akielons do not carry the propensity to carve its royal likeness onto artworks but Shigeru should have known better to jump at every Akielon he was irritated at the first time he left home to a foreign nation.

“This one is humbled with your advice, Exalted,” Shigeru demurs in soft Akielon, hoping that was the end of it. 

Then, because it can get _much_ worse, the Prince says, loud enough for the court to listen into - 

“In Akielos, wrestling is on the far end of a courtship ritual. Please keep that in mind.”

Ios lost its shit.

  
  
  


By the time the food rolls out, Shigeru can only pray that he’s poisoned by the wine and tossed into the sea so that people back in Arles won’t have to tear into him the way Ios had. Father called Akielons barbarians but they’re just as nastily crafty as Veretians, okay. The insults are getting a lot more creative. 

Tooru offered no moral support whatsoever, spending at least four traditional Akielon songs laughing right at him. Hajime gallantly offers to sit between them, for fear that there will be one less Veretian prince to send back at the end of this trip. Prince Kentarou sits far and apart from Shigeru at the start of the songs, comes closer and closer, until he’s separated merely by the _kyros_ Issei who’s only too happy to make fun of Shigeru for the entire Akielos to tune into.

“Goodness, Your Highness,” Akira spares him with an exasperated glance when he manages to sequester himself to a secluded balcony. “I would have thought you’d memorised all information on Akielon royalty before even stepping foot on the ship here.”

“They don’t believe in portraits! Or realistic depictions of the royal family! How was I supposed to know!” He hisses, contemplating a swan dive off the balcony. “Besides, he wasn’t supposed to be back in court by the time I pinned him down.”

“Oh. So you do know something,” Akira drawls, entirely judgmental. 

“Once again, the information I had of any Akielon royalty were Tooru calling Prince Kentarou a ‘mad dog’ and a caricature of the prince as an artistically exaggerated canine deity,” Shigeru profusely defends himself, because there has to be someone out here who thinks he’s _not_ a major joke to Vere. One. Only one. Then he’ll die happy.

Akira makes an interested noise. Shigeru turns to shut that noise down, before he’s eyes to eyes with the very person he’s running away from. 

“I’d be interested in viewing that caricature,” Prince Kentarou sweeps in with aristocratic but disdainful Veretian. “And you’ve brought great shame upon your house, but great entertainment upon the court of Ios. I daresay it’s an unlikely but appreciated outcome regardless.”

Shigeru turns back to moan into the crook of his bent elbow. “What a lasting legacy.”

“Well, I’d say it certainly spins a refreshing account on your life and times in the history book as the first Veretian moron to idiotically unite two warring kingdoms with the force of your idiocy,” the Prince continues, remorselessly. Shigeru knows that hard set of bones and skin holds nothing but sheer uncontained spite. Under more amenable circumstances, he might even appreciate that particular outlook on life. Shigeru certainly lives by it. He’s full of rage, all the time.

“Is that your favourite word in my tongue or something, Exalted,” he mumbles. “Idiot?”

“It’s helpful to know certain Veretian words where they are needed,” the Prince replies. “And I wouldn’t advise jumping, not unless you fancy being laughed out of Ios.”

“I haven’t been laughed out yet?” He looks back at the one cast in the vivid gold of the firelight. The wind from the coast blows - Isthima is eastbound. 

“Jump, then we’ll find out,” the Prince arches an eyebrow. 

Akira is just plainly listening in now - Shigeru can see him beckoning Shinji to come over as well. Traitors. Every single one of them.

Shigeru thinks about his newest mishap and how lucky he is to be alive, not sent home as a head and a war declaration. Father will laugh about all this.

Shigeru only has his stubborn pride now - apparently it’s hereditary. Tooru is the same. He steels his eyes, lifts his chin - he’s only a smidge taller than the Prince, but it counts nonetheless.

“Bodily threats are not appropriate courting standards in Vere, Exalted,” he breathes out. Cacophonous Akielon on his tongue. Then decides that Father will laugh, regardless of whatever he does, so, fuck it. “Also, I do accept courting gifts in rings, so that is a point that you can take away from this. Have a good night, and for the remainder of my stay, let us not see each other again. Excuse my early leave, fuck you.”

  
  
  


Tooru doesn’t think being publicly shamed at a foreign court is reason enough to be excused from council meetings post the traumatic events of Public Shaming. He thinks Shigeru is embellishing his importance at a foreign court - _they’ll move on, Shigeru, you’re not that significant._

That was scathing, but also the right amount of waking up that Shigeru needed. He sent an eloquent ‘fuck you’ on a slip of paper back to Tooru, stomps besides Shinji to the negotiation hall, takes a moment to compose himself.

The man who greets him at the door beams from a head of strawberry-sweet long hair, freckles on his olive skin. There is a scar - reddened still from the war - running jaggedly from behind his ear to the front of his throat, just missing any vitals. He seems familiar, until Shigeru remembers.

“The guide. From the first day,” he breathes out, automatically in Veretian. 

“Your Highness,” the man smiles, impish, dipping into a formal bow. He wears Veretian clothes, laces only unfastened at his throat, Akielon sash tied around his waist. “I hear you are stirring quite a lot of fun in Ios. On your second day too.”

He speaks in assured, drawling High Veretian. Like a courtier. Shigeru stares harder.

“We’ve met before yesterday,” he realises. Looks at the throat. “Eastern frontline. You look good without all the blood.”

Next to him, Shinji sighs. The man takes no offence, because Shigeru is beginning to build a name for being Big Idiot in Foreign Court, and this is expected.

“Indeed, Your Highness. I owe you my life.”

Shigeru begins to wave that away. 

“No, no, no, it was - it was the humane thing to do. Wars only obliviate the problems we are not addressing, killing aimlessly will not abate them.”

The man has enough time to raise his eyebrows before the Crown Prince Hajime gratefully appears, grandly announcing his presence.

“Shigeru, you’ve come. Tooru wagered that you would.”

“Wouldn’t want to disappoint him now, would I,” he mutters. Hajime cracks a grin. It makes him more prince and less to-be-king, easing out the lines on his forehead. “You look well-rested, Exalted.”

“And you look like you bore the full brunt of my brother’s attention,” Hajime regretfully dips his head. “My apologies for his conduct. He knows not how to converse affably.”

Just as when Shigeru was about to launch into a seminar about how he actually held Hajime’s brother in a headlock and shouted at him to yield, actually, among other things, Tooru clicks his tongue at them, beckoning the party inside.

“A trade deal cannot begin without a table, my dears,” he chides, spreading sheafs of paper to all parties. “We would otherwise conduct our talks in the garden.”

The man stands by Hajime’s elbow. He wears the mark of the royal house of Akielos.

“Who’s that guy,” he leans over to Tooru.

“So apparently at Marlas, we spared a Vaskian courtier. Takahiro of house Hanamaki,” Tooru murmurs back. “He is wedded to the _kyros_ of Delfeur."

“That’s a lot of allegiances,” Shigeru marks. “He speaks like a Veretian noble.”

“That’s because he _is,_ by blood and by ancient borders. Ver-Vassel and Lys were less definite with borders once upon a time, it was all one place. And the Hanamakis care not about the separating mountain range. They skip back and forth with their huge clan. I met him at Acquitart, after we called for the parley.”

Takahiro Hanamaki - or as Tooru is fond of yipping - Makki - drapes himself on the back of their chairs when the King and Crown Prince call for a reprieve, father and son rising to stroll around the grounds of the hall. Takahiro is remarkably chipper, speaking to two guys who months ago had been intent on killing him, had Shigeru not intervened.

“Discussing my allegiances, are we?” He begins, lilting and aristocratic Veretian almost flawless on his tongue. “I am loyal to my friends and families.”

“Are we your friends then?” Tooru raises his brows. Shigeru searches for an item to stab him with. 

“Pay him no mind, he thinks he plays the role of jester instead of a Crown Prince,” he side-eyes his brother. “It would be an honour if Vere is to receive such a friend as you are.”

There is silence where Shinji badly pretends to inspect his sleeves as if he is not leaning obvious ears into this very interesting conversation. Granted, anyone would have dropped into a deep and long sleep after two hours solid of maritime trading and vessels. It is only through sheer need for the Akielon royal family to see him beyond the idiot Prince who trounced their fellow kinsman, that kept me alert and attentive. Too attentive, in fact. It is proving to be an epic quest for favourable views. Shigeru feels like he is the one here to ask for a Prince’s hand in marriage, not his brother. 

“You’ve stuck a sword in my throat, therefore a bond was made,” Takahiro continues, half joking - Shigeru hopes he’s joking. “There is no need to speak so formally between friends. I quite like Vere and its princes.”

He breathes out, harshly, in sharp and tangible relief. Any ally for shaky Vere is a win that he willingly cultivates. Brother excels in utilising the talents before him, but he cannot attain manpower the way Shigeru could attract people into their cause. He thinks of their system as one where he offers up human sacrifices for his brother to devour and spit out anew. 

“Quite a formulated answer,” Tooru notes, though it is not pointed out in a skewed insult. “We are two princes to a noble - it would be wise for you to speak with care.”

“Or,” Takahiro’s voice dips into a pool of amusement. “I could very well like you.”

“Nobody likes me,” Tooru’s reply is in light teasing. “I inspire either intense hatred or devotion. Pick your side, Makki.”

The lord Hanamaki blooms a smile before his face, as he straightens to speak more openly to Toory about Vask-Vere relations.

With that sorted, Shigeru turns to survey the hallroom. Akielos is all marble-washed, polished white stones weathering the wide gulf of Atros. Growing up in Arles, the closest he got to a body of saltwater was Marlas, and that was not a great first memory. Perhaps he could sneak out today or soon, at the week’s end, where the palace doors open for further common mingling. Outside of palace walls, there would be less chances of people gossiping about his apparent proclivities to grappling with half-naked princes as a form of convoluted Veretian understanding of Akielon courtship. Perhaps he could even be mercifully disposed of in a dark alley somewhere, never to return to Arles. He preferred to leave this mortal plane in less violent means, but desperate times call for desperate measures. The court will not aid him in this endeavour - he must source his end elsewhere.

“Pondering your end, Your Highness?” A familiar sound appears from his left. Shigeru jerks from his scheming, a hand to his throat.

“Ah! Oh, hello, _kyros._ How do you do. _”_ He dips his head. His real question sits at the surface. _How did you get in._

“I’m here to collect my husband. It seems he is finished with the trade negotiations.” _Kyros_ Issei calmly informs him, lifting the crook of his elbow as Takahiro fits his arm through, comfortably leaning half of his weight onto the _kyros._ Shigeru barely got to chime in that his husband contributed nothing to the trade deals, but wisely shut up since Vere got _something_ at least, it's not as if it was a total loss. Tooru giggles once more, Takahiro bows and Shigeru dips his head deferentially. Oh well.

The husbands depart quietly as Shigeru sorts out on how the negotiations would fare now that they are one less influential Veretian among their midst. 

He does not get more time to wonder the arithmetic of imbalanced size in political negotiations, because the second prince, the bane of his existence, waltzes in, light and soldierly in his strides. As perplexed as Shigeru feels, the Prince bows to his father and brother, before being shown a seat. Tooru watches in twisted delight as Shigeru turns further into stone and less into human, eyes wide in horror. Now there are _three_ Akielon royals in the room, one of which Shigeru cursed out, after he threw onto the ground and yelled at. 

Shigeru starts counting down the time he has left. 

Prince Kentarou’s gaze glances by him, before he dips his chin in a tiny nod. Shigeru, too spooked to return the gesture fully, only casts his eyes down and elsewhere. The King explains that the Prince had been in the court of Patras recently and aided significantly with their naval regiment in Antalya. Shigeru knows enough about Patras to vaguely recall the name as a distant military-swamped port town. He is here to offer financial advice and brotherly support as Tooru charms the Akielon royalty into accepting him into their midst. Nothing more. He tries to disappear as much of himself as physically possible, avoiding all eye contact with the second prince. Everyone notices. Everyone is storing that exchange away for future consideration. 

  
  


The first thing Prince Kentarou does upon the draw of negotiations is to stride directly to Shigeru, who was _not_ running away, mind, he is simply needed _elsewhere, right now._

"Will you be at dinner tonight?" The Prince demands in sharp Akielon. Like a bark of battle command.

Shigeru, because his brain had not recovered from the events of the last dinner, blurts out, quite honestly, in panicked Veretian.

"I _have_ to. It would look bad if I _don't_ turn up."

Prince Kentarou stares at him for one beat of a breath. Snaps his head away. 

"Then I shall make myself scarce."

He frowns. "Ios is your home. I am a guest here. I will not bar you from your home."

"A guest that I have offended," the Prince dips his head. Shigeru notes that he isn't apologising. 

"Why do you care, really," he groans, fingers finding the loose ends on his wrist sleeves. "I'm only here for the week. You won't have to see me again after five more days. Revel in that blessing."

"Well," begins the Prince, a tad too thoughtful. "You are quite stupid."

"I'm charmed, really, Exalted, I can't say I've ever been more flattered."

"It's refreshing. I would have gone on thinking all Veretians are otherwise," Prince Kentarou continues, steady and calculated, as Shigeru stops fidgeting. "As such, I've re-evaluated my actions and words. You will not be in my presence, should you wish it so."

He stares down at the back of a still bowing Prince. Who's ranked higher than who in this scenario? Surely they cannot be equals.

"Stop bowing, you look stupid," he huffs, a touch of gruff western Veretian on his tongue. The fun Vaskian variation. "I'm not barring you from attending court, Exalted, do what you please. However, my case is entirely different. I shall bear the brunt of ridicule for my actions. I had acted falsely and I shall repent."

"You are not insulted?" The Prince lifts his head. He looks like a hound like this. Shigeru kills the impudent thought of wanting to pet him.

"Diplomatically, no. Intellectually, I'm more mad at me, so you've committed no wrong," he sighs. "But stay away from me."

The Prince bows again, seemingly processing the vehemence in which Shigeru wants to disassociate with him. Nothing good had happened around this Prince and he trusts on no force to spur events into a much better direction. He shall make himself scarce, then exile himself infinitely to the Northern Forests and beyond. Takeru is old enough to help run Vere along with Tooru and their sister. They don't need Shigeru.

"If it pleases Your Highness," the Prince intones. A practised line. 

With that sorted, Shigeru steps away. Makes the mistake of taking in the sight of the second prince.

"You are wearing your royal pin. And you didn't have that belt on yesterday."

Prince Kentarou rises, mouth shifting on a ghostly appearance of amusement.

"Oh, it is to distinguish myself from others to the Veretians at court. I have heard that royalty is not even safe from foreign assault nowadays."

Shigeru gasps, impressed but also very very pissed off.

"Seriously," he grits out. "Fuck off."

  
  
  


Akira blinks once. Takes the knife away from Shigeru's hold.

"That death wouldn't be honourable," Shinji cheerfully chimes in. 

"People have died for less," Shigeru protests. "Come on, have mercy for your Prince."

"As your guard, I am authorised to stop you from killing yourself on foreign soils," Akira stows the knife away.

"As your friend, I'm obliged to inform you that that would have solved none of the problems you've created for yourself, and that the Shigeru I know doesn't run away from problems," Shinji gently touches a hand to his shoulder.

Shigeru wants to desperately be floated out to sea. He had not had dinner. 

"Even if I've induced those problems onto myself?"

"Especially if you had induced them, yes."

He groans, turns to throw his face into the plush Akielon embroidery. 

"Can I at least get some fruits to mellow everything over? I don't want to waste away trying to scheme my way into the good graces of Akielons."

  
  


Wars drove people apart. Shigeru, second-born prince of Vere, had somehow miraculously bonded two sides of a war together by his act of constantly clowning himself at court. By the time he actually turns up to court after all methods of evasion had run away, he finds that there is little to no animosity in an otherwise tense court. The Akielons laugh raucously when they rope him into stilted Veretian conversations, playfully clipping him into friendly tussles. The courtiers think he's contrary to his appearances and that he is infinitely more entertaining than everything the court had encountered for a long while. The soldiers invite him to the arena. _We shall teach you the ways of **okton,** my prince. _

**_My_ **prince, they had all said. He's not even here to be married off into Akielon royalty and he's already collecting graces like a farmer on a really good harvest.

The _kyroi_ think he's a riot. They joke about how he could ascend to kingship like that, extravagantly throwing himself onto a fight, like an Akielon. _Are you sure you have no Akielon blood in you,_ the Mellos _kyros_ queried. Shigeru had vehemently denied. _What a shame. You would make a fine Akielon,_ they all lament.

"You are the darling of the court, it seems," Takahiro appears at the end of the first dance. Shigeru slumps in relief. He had been held up by sheer structural demands of his royal clothing. He is nothing but molluscs inside tightly laced jackets and breeches.

"I wish it was otherwise," he whispers back, in sorrowful Veretian. "My Akielon is not as prepared to delve into court gossip. I learnt enough to negotiate trade deals. No one expected me to… mingle. I did not expect _me_ to mingle as well."

Takahiro grins, sharp and striking. Shigeru could see why Akielons decided that he should stay in their court. He's a sight, for sure.

"But you’ve done remarkably. I have never seen a court more enthralled."

"They better not extend their invitation. I want to go back," he pulls at the laces on his wrists. "Anywhere I can step out to unlace myself? It is too stifling to be in Veretian clothing."

Takahiro rises, offering him an elbow. They step out into the garden.

  
  


The garden is not cooler than the banquet hall, but it offers him a modicum of privacy to refashion himself where he will not perspire to death. The sea crashes gently onto shore, waves announcing their presence from all directions. If Shigeru had been less of a disgrace, perhaps Ios wouldn't be too bad of a residence to lounge about in.

"My beloved had not had the opportunity to speak with you," Takahiro begins, looking elsewhere. Shigeru does not notice the approaching figure. 

"The _kyros?_ We spoke," he raises his head. 

"There is no harm in speaking more, Your Highness," Issei the _kyros_ husband dips into a stately bow. Shigeru returns the bow. "You after all, restored my darling to me."

Just out of curiosity, Shigeru's eyes flick between the men.

"Were you - my apologies for asking - before, Marlas?" 

Akira, who had shadowed him from inside the hall, hacks out an unsubtle _very eloquent, Your Highness._

Takahiro opens his mouth for Issei to wink at Shigeru. Or at his husband. It is unclear who is the intended target. They are easy with one another. Shigeru can only hope he can achieve that ease to an extent with his future spouse.

“We made an oath in our youth,” confirms the _kyros._ “Before my naming ceremony.”

“That early?” He gapes. “Without political arrangements?”

“Well,” drawls Takahiro. “It certainly was not expected. We made oaths to one another - the bonding ceremony was to be after Marlas, if we survive.”

Shigeru is slowly losing it. “And you did.”

Issei smiles, easy, genuine and personable. Shigeru can feel the Vere-Akielos allegiance strengthening. 

“All thanks to you, Your Highness.”

“Well, I didn’t do _all_ the work, but I will receive your thanks with grace.” He dips into a playful curtsy. “And you need not thank me. I did not seek clemency in expectation of gratitude. However, I am not also a virtuous man. I asked brother to spare your life because the consequences would outweigh the small act of letting you live. There is no debt between us.”

“Efficient,” Issei remarks. Takahiro grins.

“Veretian.”

“If only I applied that facet to the court - perhaps they would respect me more,” he laments, but what was done is done.

The husbands do not think so. They think he is loved plenty at court. They have not seen any other foreigner so warmly received as Shigeru had inspired the Akielon court. 

“Well that’s good,” he mutters. “What about the Prince? I don’t suppose he suffers any disgrace on my behalf?”

Takahiro’s eyes pinch in the moonlight. That right there is the Veretian calculated eye pinch. Akielons don’t have that. 

“Funnily enough, the court was content with ignoring the Exalted before you arrived in your wrestling courtship montage. They view him somewhat more favourably now.”

 _“More?”_ He can’t help but be curious. “What about before?”

Shigeru’s education and preparedness had consistently failed him ever since he stepped onto Akielon land. Really, it should come to no surprise that he knows absolute _fuck all_ when it comes to anything regarding Akielon royalty. He’s more equipped to talk to literally everyone else in Akielos than to royalty. Dangle him over the highest spire and let him drop please, he shouldn’t be allowed in court. 

“A misbehaving bastard child inspires little love in the people, Your Highness,” the _kyros_ speaks, rueful in the line of his mouth. “Especially one as wayward as the Exalted, Prince Kentarou.”

“Whoa,” he lets his mouth hang loose. “My gods, I thought that was simply a terrible rumour.”

“There is plenty for you to know about the Exalted,” Takahiro nudges into him, mouth impish. “The court already thinks you two are engaged in odd courtship, why not acquaint yourself with him while you’re here?”

Shigeru is starting to see something. Granted, patterns of influence wash over him like water over a duck’s head, with him catching up terribly after missing painfully obvious social cues. But this seems too deliberate. A net to hand him bodily to the hunter. His nose scrunches into a frown, fingers curling into his palm.

“I told him to not come near me,” he confesses, because the truth at this point is much milder than any variation of rumours floating about in the gossip mill. “After I swore at him.”

Issei coughs out something suspiciously close to _bet he’d like that._ Takahiro throws him a look, before bearing onto Shigeru the full force of his dimpled, freckly smile.

“Those are slights Kentarou can get over. He had heard worse. Would you consider a trip then, out to the greater city of Ios and the coast? We would accompany you, of course, give you more time to acquaint yourselves with one another.”

He’s definitely suspicious now. “Why are you coordinating me near the vicinity of your prince? I made clear that I wish to not be near him.”

Takahiro’s smile slants into something conspiratorial, pushing up a cheek. He seems delighted that Shigeru apparently can’t figure out what is playing out before him.

“Yes, Your Highness, you have. But have you considered what his wishes would be?”

“What are his wishes then?” He throws up both hands.

Takahiro touches a finger to his forehead, cackling. “You’ll have to come see us at the city gate tomorrow morning to find that out.”

  
  
  


Shigeru, against all self-preserving instincts, goes to the city gates. Akira lumbers behind him, yawning about ‘bad idea’ and ‘I thought you didn’t want to see him’. 

“Remember when I was eight and I really loved those urban legends from Ravennel?” He speaks from the corner of his mouth. Akira yawns louder.

“You never stopped. And this isn’t an urban legend. You’re an actual person. When the Akielons kill you -”

Shigeru waves him off. “Yes, yes, you told me so. Permission granted to speak of me terribly at my funeral.”

"I reserve those rights since birth, _Your Highness.”_

The husbands, tending to their steeds, wave him over. Akira surreptitiously stands closer to Shigeru, despite all previous complaints about how this was a terrible idea and how woeful it was to serve an idiot prince. The Prince Kentarou stands apart with his steed, stark inky black to the mild mahogany of every other steed present, murmuring softly to horse’s snout.

“You’ve come,” Issei notes as Takahiro steps over to clasp him loosely across the shoulder. 

“Against better judgments,” he tips his head to Akira, who haughtily holds up his chin in direct defiance to all Akielons present. They took no offence. “Are we to the city?”

“Anywhere in particular that you wish to visit?”

He had never seen the sea in all her wild, turbulent, war-free beauty. 

“I’d like to see your ocean.”

Prince Kentarou looks up then, eyes golden and piercing. He turns away at the imploring gaze.

“Very well. It could be arranged,” Takahiro winks at him.

  
  
  


Kindaichi, or as Issei good-naturedly jostles into him, _Yuutaro,_ provides a welcomed distraction at Akira’s side while Shigeru plots out ways to lose present company to freely ride around without a retinue of guards and royalty. They wander through the marketplace aimlessly, as he idly takes in Akielon wares, simple embroidery and jewellery, sweetmeats and confectioneries, weapons, instruments. Akira is vaguely distracted and Shigeru practised evasion for the whole of his life - it is how he survived a war and a life at Veretian court - so he slips off all royal insignia off the horse, exchanges the goods for a basket of growing breads and fruits, before winding himself out of the marketplace, checking that he is losing all tails on him.

“Oh good,” he notes. “Okay, which way is the sea, now.”

A wave crashes onto shore in the distance. Shigeru hasn’t ridden for the sake of it for a long time. He swings himself onto the horse, takes off.

If he dies, then oh well, it is at least where he won’t be found.

  
  
  


Things that Shigeru expected to find at the sea: water, sky, loud birds, sand, sailors, some brats running freely on the shore.

What he finds at the sea: second Prince Kentarou, idly shoving his feet into the water.

“Okay we just have to find another ocean,” he says to the horse, desperately steering her away. He isn’t the best rider in Vere - he knows enough to not die on a horse, but he is no means a seasoned equestrian. That’s all Tooru. As Shigeru cruises through most things in life, he has an approximate knowledge of enough things to not die and that is enough for him.

“Your Highness,” a voice that is the Prince rings out. “Come.”

He quickly debates the chances of him successfully evading a prince from a nation who prides itself on martial might. Literally all of Shigeru’s knowledge had failed him up to this point on Akielon royalty, so he wasn’t about to start hoping that maybe he could run away on horseback where he barely has the hang of speed on his own. Being in direct pursuit by a foreign prince cannot be his last act before death, that would just be humiliating. Father will laugh him out of death and laugh him back into it. Shigeru turns back, with great reluctance, and heads to the sandy shore.

“Exalted,” he sighs, slipping from his horse. “How’d you know I’d wind up here?”

He doesn’t bother with using formal Akielon with the Prince, because he figured there is no more respect between them by this point. The Prince takes no offence, but he’s a bit capricious on what he takes offence in, in which being wrestled into the ground ranks highest on that priority ladder. Shigeru ran out of politeness to dish out, so they will have to make do with what he has.

“Your guard said you would want to see the ocean,” the Prince comments mildly, sparing him no glance. 

“Is this before or after the husband duo told you I want to see the ocean?” He wearily inquires. The Prince finally cuts him a look. “What, I knew there was something, I just didn’t know _what.”_

“You wished to not speak to me directly, so I sent Hiro in my stead. Or was that too forward?”

As always, Shigeru’s brain focuses on the wrong thing at the wrong time.

“Hiro?” He balks. Then - “Wait, _forward?_ In _what?”_

“Hiro is my kinsman.” The Prince states, even, as if this is a common fact.

It is not common knowledge. 

“But Takahiro is Veretian nobility,” he poses, dumbly. “Well, I don’t know how Veretian he is. He certainly speaks like one.”

“He is also of Vaskian blood. One I share,” the Prince continues, even as ever. Patient like he is explaining a simple concept to a child. 

It takes a while for him to reconfigure that lineage map in his head, before he gasps, genuinely shocked.

“You’re Vaskian?” He clutches at his chest. “Wait, no, no, I can see it. But _Vaskian?_ Like, _royal_ Vaskian?”

“I’m far along the nobility line, so it matters not to them. My blood is far more potent in Akielos, where I hold a claim to the throne.” 

This is spoken with a great degree of irony. Shigeru can see how that multitude of lineage could be unappealing to a conservative court, like the one he hailed from. He offers a consolatory moment of silence.

“Then, uh, are you, also,” he gestures vaguely, and with a note of grim awareness, dumbly. “Thanking me?”

“I didn’t kill you on sight. That was my thanks,” Prince Kentarou raises a brow. 

Shigeru twists into a startled laugh. “Right, of course. Then why are you here?”

He hasn’t heard a whole lot of tales from Akielos, but its princes apparently heard plenty about him. 

“You’ve petitioned successfully to abolish the pet system in your court.”

“Well,” he blinks. “It wasn’t _all_ me.”

“Regardless, it was done. Akielos thinks you’ve erred in your ways, as we while away with our inhumane regime of slavery. I’d like it if you could speak with me to the council on this matter of abolition.”

He remembers a tale, from long ago. The Vaskian coup, the fleeing mass scattering to the mountains, the forest, to neighbouring nations. A few were sold into slavery. A king who struck a deal with one noblewoman, a warrior, really, who wished to restore the rightful heir to the throne. She who gave him a son in exchange for his aid in reclaiming Vask. Their child was to be the King’s child, raised away from Vaskian attempts of assassination. It was an epic tale, full of Vaskian wit and perseverance. The boy-prince who would never be king.

“I thought the Vaskian boy-prince was only a story,” he breathes, realising who this is. Then, digging himself a bigger hole to shove himself in it. “You’re not really making yourself out to be favourable in any court, huh?”

“I don’t need them to like me,” the Prince bites out, Veretian sharp. “I need to do what’s right.”

“You do realise a lot of doing what’s right involves having people liking you a fair bit, yeah?” He gestures broadly, open palms, stretched out fingers. He is wearing only a thin band of silver on his pointer finger, his signet ring stowed away. He wanted conspicuousness, not outright ogling at a runaway prince. The Prince’s eyes are drawn to his empty hands.

“Haven’t learnt how to do that, not going to start soon,” he turns away, frown puncturing lines onto his forehead.

“I care not about doing what’s right,” he begins, mind turning over the benefits and detriments of accepting this offer. “I care about doing what is beneficial for me. But since we had started off wrongly, I’d like to amend that by gently suggesting how horrid slavery is to the members of your court.” 

“I didn’t come without bribes,” huffs the Prince, tossing him a small packet. Something jingles inside the parcel. Shigeru pulls away the string, lunging to catch a rolling ring. There are more rings. He inspects each one, glittering faintly in crafted silver and warm gold.

“Really, you didn’t have to,” he closes the package. “One would think this is less a bribery and more a courtship.”

The Prince’s eyes are molten gold. He faintly compares their lustre to the rings he clutches. Real gold can’t even compare to royal eyes, huh. 

“Think however you wish. Shall I collect you from your chamber for tonight’s dinner then?”

Shigeru holds up a palm, schemes sliding into place. “Yes, but first, we eat from this basket of breads. Then we shop.”

“For what?” The Prince pitches his voice to an irritated growl. Shigeru blinks demuring lashes across to him. 

“Why, everyone likes a pretty thing, Exalted. You, me, the marketplace, then the royal tailor. Come, no more time to waste.”

  
  
  


If Shigeru hadn’t cemented rumours circulating about his relations with the second prince, that dinner sends people into a frenzy. Because his knowledge on Akielon royal sheets had failed him egregiously the first time and he holds no respect for the bland fashion, Shigeru quickly made do with his closet, what the royal tailor could spare him, jewellery and vigorous lacing on the second prince. He’s the same build as Shigeru, only broader, which was fun (no, not really) to resize shirts and jackets to fit his chest. It is a very nice chest. Prince Kentarou made no comments on the amount of time Shigeru took to measure the span of it.

“My dears,” the Thracian courtiers flutter around them. “How darling you look. Exalted, this shade is becoming on you.”

Prince Kentarou didn’t expect to be addressed after Shigeru gave him the rundown of how the evening would go, amounting to an impression held by the prince that he would be a lauded trophy dragged about by the arm, staring moodily into space. Shigeru was fully prepared to be charming and darling in Akielon, after a crash course in speaking Court Akielon from the tailor, the maids and a senior advisor’s spouse. He was going to bear the brunt of this night. The prince just had to look good and not glare anyone into cowed fear.

“Isn’t cerulean lovely on him?” Shigeru smiles, winningly. “It was quite impromptu, this blend of our two fashions. Perhaps, given time, we could establish a more fashionable mix of our two nations.”

“Oh you say the most wondrous things, Your Highness,” titter the courtiers. The Prince then speaks. Shigeru holds his breath in.

“My sincere thanks for your attention. We hope that this would be amenable to your tastes.”

The courtiers, unlike with Shigeru, slam familiar hands onto the Prince’s arms in ‘stop it, you’ gestures. They are charmed. Shigeru lets loose the breath. The courtiers flitter away after promising to be back with good news.

He does wait for them to be out of view before leaning in to whisper to the prince.

“So you _can_ be charming.”

“You’ve legitimised wrestling as a form of appropriate conduct to express discontent upon royalty. Do not provide me incentive to place you in a chokehold,” the Prince mutters back, gold eyes slicing to his. “I’m learning. In Akielos, we do not fight with charms.”

Feeling a little bold and a lot stupid, Shigeru giggles, dropping a cheeky wink at the prince. The hand locked onto his tightens. 

“Good now that you’re learning from the best, hey? Also stop bringing that up, I could absolutely make you yield again.”

This is a Prince who was the product of a political allegiance during a time of tumult. He is wild, a son of the mountains and seas. Shigeru allows himself, for a moment, to be swayed by the intense gold of his gaze.

“Guess we’ll find out, Prince Shigeru.”

“Guess we will,” he murmurs, a slight bit delirious. “Prince Kentarou.”

  
  
  


About halfway through his charming session to half the Akielon council, Tooru draws him away, giddily pulling him to a pillar where Shinji presents him with a necklace. A vaguely Vaskian necklace. Distinct craftsmanship. He stares hard at it. The two Veretians present titter with unrestrained excitement.

“What is that,” he squints. “Why are you showing it to me?”

“It’s a necklace,” Shinji begins. Tooru finishes it with - “For you.”

“From?” He asks, a little alarmed. “Why are people piling me with gifts all day long?”

“Which people have been heaping you in gifts?” Tooru’s eyebrows climb, far into his hairline. “I need to vet them.”

“Well, only one, but it wasn’t - it’s stupid, don’t give it any mind. Who gave you this?” He stares harder at the necklace. “This is an Akielon court. That is a Vaskian necklace.”

“Indeed,” a familiar voice remarks. “Your observational skills are unparalleled.”

Shigeru doesn’t even turn around. He summons the full brunt of the Vaskian tongue. _“Shut the fuck up.”_

Tooru is giggling even harder.

“Is that to your liking?” The Prince lifts his chin at the necklace. “It was my mother’s.”

Shigeru is immediately horrified. “Is she dead?”

“You’ll be dead when she hears,” the Prince tells him, a touch viciously. “She gave it to me as an heirloom. I’m at liberty to grant it to whoever I wish.”

“Like,” Shigeru’s head spins. “Like a courtship gift?”

“It could be that.”

His head is spinning faster now. “You don’t need to ask for my hand for me to pressure your court into abolishing archaic slavery. I told you that mocking you was adequate recompense.”

“I’m not asking for your hand, I thought it would suit you,” the Prince shrugs, as if that answers anything. “Wards off unwanted suitors or whatever.”

There is an interested crowd gathering around them. Shinji and Tooru are vibrating at a rate that can shatter rocks. Shigeru is growing more and more red.

“You’re not exactly wanted,” he bites out. “We don’t like each other.”

“That is what you think,” the Prince returns evenly. 

“Okay then, Exalted, what _do_ you think?”

The king calls for a toast of friendship, truce, Shigeru’s darling presence in the court, and the crowd dissipates. He doesn’t get to hear what the prince thinks of him. He is suddenly afraid.

“He’s not threatening to kill me in my sleep, is he?” He asks Shinji, who has the gall to laugh at him in the face.

“I’m staying right out of this,” he hacks out, clapping Shigeru on the shoulder. “Think like a courtier for a moment. Then you’ll see.”

  
  
  


He goes to the _kyros_ Issei after the main courses have drawn closed, the man dipping into an amused bow to him.

“Had a fun ride with Kentarou on the beach?”

“Not the time, thank you for that desertion,” he holds up a finger, slipping into commoner Veretian. “Do Akielons have, I don’t know, weird courting rituals?”

Issei’s eyebrows move. “Weird how?”

“I don’t know, submission in wrestling is a sign of strength and competence, something like that.”

“You’ve done that. With our prince. He rarely lets people push him to the ground, if at all.”

“Why, because I’m a pretty face?” He huffs, scrubbing at his jaw. “Seriously, had the Prince been courting me?”

“I don’t know, that’s something you have to bring up with him,” Issei lets one shoulder drop in a half shrug. “Although it seems that way to me.”

Shigeru’s mind is spinning away from him. He didn’t encounter this, did _not_ prepare for this - for anything for this entire trip at all. Oh gods oh heavens, it’s all in shambles. He turns, notes that the Prince is in deep conversation with his Father the King. Notes the warm smiles of the court.

He needs to see brother, now.

  
  
  


“How do I reject a foreign prince’s courtship attempts without incurring national wrath on our heads?” He throws the question at Tooru the minute he manages to extricate himself from Hajime, who’s only staring at them bemusedly. 

“Aww, why, I think it’s cute,” Tooru cackles as Shigeru swears. “Come on, what’s so bad about it?”

“It’s - ah, okay, so I don’t think it’s all genuine, and plus,” he growls, pulling at the gold threads laced in his hair. “It’s all done wrong.”

Tooru’s eyebrows climb once again to his hairline. 

“Shigeru, that is simply not necessary. Mother would not mind terribly.”

“Well _I_ mind. I want to do one thing right and it’s that, so,” he squares up his shoulders. “We leave tomorrow anyways. I’m going to break a courtship.”

“Ah, Shigeru, really -” Tooru’s soft cry can’t catch up to him fast enough. “What a stubborn child.”

  
  


Preferring to keep his own company within the trusted three Veretians that he came with, Shigeru had not partook in the late night festive rambling that the court indulged in, but he was with a mission and it must be conducted in the safety of nighttime anyways, so he set out to search for Prince Kentarou. Courtiers giggle deliriously at him, soldiers whistle as he flits about inquiring after the Prince, before a hand catches him from behind a bush bordering the fountain in the main garden, drawing him to a vined alcove under the stars.

“You’re not really doing a good job of hating me,” Prince Kentarou notes, eyes gold in the dark night. 

“I don’t hate you, but that’s neither here nor there,” he hisses back, words punchy. “Were you courting me?”

The Prince only stares. Shigeru grows more fidgety. 

“It was a yes or no answer, Exalted. One word. Come on.”

“What if I was?”

“Okay that is not one word. Um, I’d have to tell you no.”

“What if I wasn’t?”

“What is this, a court martial? Then I’d be offended.”

His brain finally plays catch up with his mouth. Everything is in shambles, fully. There is nothing left to salvage for him now. That was more honesty than he would have preferred to have while negotiating his own courtship to the guy courting him. Ah, Shigeru, keep it together.

“What would you like then?” Prince Kentarou asks, in the dark of the garden.

Shigeru hits a blank at that. He knows what he wants, intellectually, but he doesn’t know how to express that in the face of someone who experienced the full spectrum of his capriciousness in under five minutes. 

“As a Prince of Vere, I would like to honour my own traditions. We might have to alter a few aspects, but I would also like to honour your traditions. We could work out a compromise.”

Prince Kentarou watches as Shigeru draws out the heirloom necklace, presenting it back to him. 

“You must excuse my confusion, but are you spurning me or not?”

“Well,” Shigeru swallows, finding elsewhere interesting. “As Shigeru the idiot, it’s quite confusing. I thought you hated me.”

“And I you.”

“Then, uh, why all this? I’m sure there are other royals around,” he gestures broadly. “I’m hardly remarkable.”

“You’re plenty remarkable, but more importantly, you’re stupid.”

“Was that supposed to be _nice?”_ He balks. “I make stupid looks good.”

“Besides the point. Either way, you’re stupid, my court likes you and I’ve got eyes, I know I’m not unbecoming in your views. Vaskian courtships take years to complete. We are free to leave when we are intolerable to each other’s presences.”

This has got to be the weirdest fucking proposal that Shigeru had been subjected to, because it aligned with a lot of his values. They are more similar than he thinks. An amenable spouse is nice, he supposes. A spouse who constantly keeps him on his toes. He thought that was simply a faraway dream.

“What if out of sheer spite, we are tolerable for a long time?” He challenges.

Prince Kentarou shrugs. “Then you play right into my hands.”

“Fuck you, I’m going to be the worst suit you ever pursued. Mark my words.”

  
  
  


On the farewell fanfare that sees a teary Tooru back to Vere, a relieved Akira and a serene Shinji, Shigeru stands to the side bickering with a foreign prince. Who is in the weird paradox of courting him but not really, who is pressuring him to keep the heirloom necklace.

“What the fuck,” he hisses in rough Akielon. Shinji doubles over in a fit of coughs. “Keep it.”

“It’s yours,” the Prince insists. 

“It’s not mine until I travel to Vask to meet your mother,” he argues just as staunchly. “It’s not appropriate.”

“What, are you suddenly a stickler for rules now,” snorts the Prince. “It’s not an official royal heirloom anyways. It holds emotional values.”

The Prince had gotten very very good at deflecting Shigeru’s jibes and grievances. It’s all fun and games for him who thinks this is all amusing and not a matter of national emergency. Shigeru is at stake here! He must do things right. 

“That is a very fine margin that you are walking on,” he gripes, tugging the necklace back. He turns his back to the Prince. “Put it on me.”

The entourage, who wasn’t listening in, oh no, why would he think that, looks at their Prince to gauge his expression. In terms of transnational hierarchy schemes, Shigeru is equal to their prince across a lot of playing fields. Equals don’t demean one another. Probably. The Prince stretches the necklace taut, an arm sweeping over his head, thin line gleaning his bared throat, hands brushing against the side of his throat, his nape. He’s doing this one purpose. Shigeru sweeps his hair away, the long line of a nape exposed to the guy he is _not_ easy on, thank you very much.

“Gold looks good on you,” the Prince remarks. 

“I make everything look good,” he sniffs, nose upturned. “Now, don’t be too aggrieved while we are parted. I will see you next fall.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” the Prince intones dutifully. He steps back, as courtesy dictates. Shigeru wars with his sensibilities for a trifling moment before saying ah, whatever, what Mother does not know will not kill her.

He dips, one knee onto the port, reaching for the hand bearing the signet ring of the royal house of Akielos. Prince Kentarou relents his hand easily. He had said - Whatever pleases you, I will perform. Sap. The knuckles are pressed onto his forehead, before his lips graze the ring. A declaration of intent. Can’t go back now.

"I still don’t like you,” he tells the Prince as he rises. His Royal Highness, Pain in the Side quirks a brow.

“I think I can live with that.”

The husbands whistle at them while they spring apart, startled, reluctant to be separate. 

  
  


Akira tells him, the minute that he’s separated from the Akielons. “So. When’s the wedding?”

Shigeru glares at him. “Mind your damn business.”

In Shigeru’s defence, he didn’t plan for Prince Kentarou.

**Author's Note:**

> 10000% everyone knew from the moment kentarou walked into court and said 'this is the dude who threw me onto the ground bc he was flirting with me' that there would be Something - and they were RIGHT obviously kentarou you can't hide your crush
> 
> you catch any meme references, you can tell me so in the comments. I had to balance writing proper feudal language words to fit the setting, to which I completely abandoned by the end, because I just wanted it done, but the memes are there. bon appetit. also feel free to speculate on that transnational hierarchy scheme 
> 
> I really really like stories that don't really end? this to me feels open ended where it's so much fun to speculate about how people can grow together - which I don't have the energy to flesh out fully yet but maybe we'll get an even slower burn in the years to come. the beginning of a courtship is precarious and wonderfully disastrous - and that was the aim here. I love love the dynamics I put out and though it feels OOC at times, I really think Kyoutani would grow to be calmer and deeply vicious so once again, you can disagree with what I have down, I just think this makes sense to me
> 
> also idk how courting works so I freestyled it there is NO historical accuracy whatsoever. also I know Veretians call Akielos as Achelos but at this point in time I'm 10000 words plus too deep in this fic and also I feel like Oikawa would pressure people into being respectful of how other people would term themselves and this is a scant party of 4 so they were like 'guess I'll call them in their tongue'
> 
> find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hozukitofu) and [cc](https://curiouscat.me/jenny_benny)! i have a writing [twitter](https://twitter.com/jayjem_jam) if anyone is interested in more bs or we can just vibe in the void together


End file.
